Iain Stirling and Sean McLoughlin

The star signing lets down the team

No offence to the jaunty Iain Stirling, but it’s intriguing to wonder what a solo hour with Sean McLoughlin would have turned out like. CBBC’s Scottish presenter Stirling seems billed as the main event here given his status as compere and closing act, but his appearances are sandwiched by a deliciously performed 25-minutes which, thanks to a frisky crowd, threatens to spill into outright anarchy. McLoughlin just about keeps a handle on proceedings, riding the wave of the mania that, contrary to his protestations, he has willingly cultivated in order to platform his more unhinged material.

You could name two dozen more unsightly comics on the Fringe this year (at the absolute minimum), but McLoughlin is determined to play on the consequences of his apparent physical imperfections, a situation greased by a rather unfortunate physical maladjustment. Once he stops the early, somewhat distracting habit of explaining his jokes, he has some cracking lines about his own mobile phone, the misery of being on the dole and how he applies the Mr Kipling standard to world affairs. By contrast, Stirling’s inoffensive musings on Facebook, Hollyoaks and that stand-up travel staple of yore, the megabus, seem merely serviceable.